The Memories
by Senaraft
Summary: Voldemort strikes and Harry falls, waking up in what seems to be his old bedroom back at the Dursley's. But things are not as they seem. Something is different as Harry will soon find out as he must navigate this strange new adventure.


The Memories

Author: Senaraft

Chapter One

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Harry Potter ©

Notes: The word football in this story refers to soccer for all of my fellow Americans.

"Harry Potter," he said very softly. His voice might have been part of the spitting fire.

"The Boy Who Lived."

None of the Death Eaters moved. They were waiting: Everything was waiting. Hagrid was struggling, and Bellatrix was panting, and Harry thought inexplicably of Ginny, and her blazing look, and the feel of her lips on his —

Voldemort had raised his wand. His head was still tilted to one side, like a curious child, wondering what would happen if he proceeded. Harry looked back into the red eyes, wanting it to happen now, quickly, while he could still stand before he lost control before he betrayed fear —

He saw the mouth move and a flash of green light, and everything was gone.

* * *

He lay facedown, listening to the silence. He was perfectly alone. Nobody was watching him. Nobody else was there. He was not perfectly sure that he was there himself. A long-time later, or maybe no time at all, it came to him that he must exist, must be more than disembodied thought, because he was lying, definitely lying on some surface. Therefore he had some sense of touch, and the thing against which he lay existed too.

Almost as soon as he had reached this conclusion, Harry became conscious that something close by was beeping loudly, though in his current state it sounded as if it was coming from the opposite end of a long tunnel. He wondered whether, as he could feel the soft surface beneath him if he would be able to see. In opening them, he discovered that he had eyes. He blinked. Bright rays of warm, soothing, sunlight were pouring in from somewhere. He closed his eyes tight, and then reopened them, letting them adjust to the bright light, which was far different from the darkness that had been cast by the thick trees in the Forbidden Forrest. As his eyes grew accustomed to the light he looked up above him. A pale-colored ceiling filled his vision, while a ceiling fan spun around silently overhead. It was as he peered up at the revolving ceiling fan that he realized he was not wearing his glasses. It struck him as even more strange that without them perched upon the bridge of his nose that he could see properly. Harry rolled over onto his side and realized that he was lying on a bed of some sort, though where this bed or this room was for that matter he was not quite sure yet. He was able to rule out being in the Hospital Wing.

Harry sat up and blinked a bit more, wondering. He leaned over and turned off the digital alarm clock that was sitting on his nightstand.

He looked cautiously around the room and received another shock to the system, and was surprised that he did not pass out. His nervous system seemed to be working in overdrive as he looked around the now-familiar room. It was his old bedroom, the one he had spent nearly six years living in, ever since his Uncle Vernon had moved him out of the cupboard under the stairs in an attempt to appease him so many years ago. Harry realized that it was his room, but with deliberate mistakes here and there. The walls had been painted a deep emerald green color that reminded him very much of the house colors of Slytherin and for a brief moment, memories of sneaking into the Slytherin common room with Ron swam to the surface of his mind. He saw a poster showing a group of who he guessed were well-known football players that certainly had not been there the last time he had called this room home. The bed, the desk, window, nightstand, bookcase, and cabinet were all the same as he remembered them. It was the items sitting atop them or in them that were different from the last time he had been in the room, before both he and the Dursley's had departed for the last time, before the hunt to finish Lord Voldemort had really, truly started. There was a computer sitting on the desk in the far corner underneath the windowsill, its screen still alight, but hard to make out through the vast arches of light that were coming in through the window. Pens, notebooks, and binders littered the desk as well as if someone had been up all night finishing up last-minute school work. On the right where his bookshelf stood were framed photographs, sports awards and trophies, and books stacked neatly side by side. He looked over at his nightstand. There were no glasses, no wand, but a single sports magazine that had been left open on an article about an upcoming football match that seemed to be taking place that month. As Harry looked around the room some more he realized with a jolt to his stomach that there was no trunk, no spellbooks. There wasn't a birdcage insight. He frowned and, for a brief moment, his heart filled again with sorrow and misery at the loss of Hedwig, who had been his one true connection to magical world while he had resided at Number Four Privet Drive.

Harry kicked back the bedsheets and got slowly to his feet. They seemed to be in working order. Wondering what on earth was going on he stumbled across the room and pulled open the cabinet door. His reflection stared back at him. It was not the same reflection he remembered in The Hogs Head. His hair, while still untidy and sticking up at the back was not as long as it had been. His face was clean and unmarked of blood and cuts he had sustained during the battle to keep Voldemort's Death Eaters at bay. The only thing that seemed to be the same was the thin, slanting, lighting shaped scar on his forehead. He brushed his hair aside so as to get a better look at it. He also noticed as he got closer to the mirror that he was wearing contacts. Harry noticed that there were no wizards robes hanging up, nor his Quidditch ones. He blinked again and pulled his head out of the cabinet, turning around to face the room again.

He thought for a bit and realized that he must be at the Dursley's.

How and why he was at the Dursley's remained a mystery to him. The only reason he could even come up with as to why he was back in the home he had thought he had left forever was that he was dead. Was this heaven then? Harry shook his head. Surely this would not be heaven if he was back in the place where he had received so much neglect and cruelty from both his Aunt, Uncle, and Cousin. He could think of a million other places that he would rather spend an eternity in than this old house, where bad memories seemed to creep up on his through the walls and floorboards. If he really was dead and stuck here then he must be in —

Harry bit his lip and walked back over to his bed. The bedsprings creaked a little as he sat back down. Could this all have been a dream, some nightmare perhaps? Maybe he would wake up and discover that he was still at Shell Cottage, and the events at the castle, and even Gringotts the Wizarding Bank had not yet unfolded. It seemed likely. Harry thought long and hard at everything that had happened since he had last gone to sleep. It had all seemed so raw, so real. Fred, Lupin, and Tonks lying dead on the floor in the Great Hall. The terrible events that had transpired in the Room of Requirement that had resulted in the death of Vincent Crabbe. Neville slicing off the great serpents' head. The Death Eater's laughter as Voldemort had struck him down with the killing curse. Had it all just been a dream? Was this still the dream?

Harry gave himself a hard pinch on his arm. It hurt quite a lot. He could only assume that by doing this it ruled out any chance that he was currently dreaming. He frowned as he looked down at his feet. Harry noticed that the sweatpants he was currently wearing had soccer balls and cleats embroidered on them. He smiled slightly for what seemed like the first time in a long time.

There was a sudden loud rap of knuckles on the bedroom door and instinctively Harry reached for a wand somewhere on his person only to discover there was nothing there. He began to wonder if it was somewhere in the room as a familiar voice called out from the other side of the door.

"Are you up, Harry?"

Aunt Petunia's voice was not its usual shrill angry tone he was custom to hearing. It was calm and sweet. Harry found this very odd. There was no way that was the Aunt Petunia he had lived with growing up. She had to be an imposter.

"Yes, I am up." said Harry. He could hear the nervousness in his voice.

"Well breakfast is just about ready. Come downstairs and get a plate before it gets cold, will you? Dudley and your Uncle Vernon are waiting for you." she said as he heard her footsteps recede away from his bedroom.

It felt as though his heart was going to beat out of his chest. He needed to figure out what was going on and fast. Dumbledore had once told him that they would be facing unknown magic on their quest to defeat Voldemort. Had this been what he had meant? Harry got back to his feet and walked across to his cabinet. He pulled a shirt from inside it and pulled it over his head. It fit him perfectly. The shirt was most certainly something Dudley had once owned or else it would have been three to four times too big for him. Harry shuffled through He crept slowly to the bedroom door and slowly turned the doorknob. He stuck his head out and peered into the empty hallway. Harry moved cautiously towards the staircase, his back pressed up against the wall, expecting to be set upon by Death Eaters at any moment. Silent as a cat he made his way downstairs and into the sitting room. Just like his bedroom, the sitting room was exactly as he remembered but with differences here and there. If someone had come to call to Number Four the last time he had lived here they would never have been able to guess that another boy aside from Dudley had lived there. There had been no photographs of him in the house anywhere.

Harry approached a few of the framed photographs on the wall and was astounded to see his smiling face among those of the Dursley's. He had no memory of taking the picture with them. Judging by how they were all dressed, the picture had been taken around the holidays. Harry was standing next to his cousin Dudley's arm in arm in front of the fireplace, wide grins on both of their faces, with both his Aunt and Uncle standing next to him, beaming at the camera. It might have been taken around Christmas time. Harry could just make out a large tree in the corner to Dudley's left. A few other photographs showed a much younger Harry. Some of them seemed like grade school pictures.

Harry looked over his shoulder and spotted the cupboard under the stairs. He walked over to it and pulled it open noticing at once that it was crammed full of boxes. The box on top was labeled pictures. He pulled it open and saw it was full of smaller boxes which were all full of old photographs. One showed him and Dudley sitting on the couch in front of the television, while another showed him riding a bicycle down the street. Harry had never had a bicycle before, let along been taught how to ride one. Harry riffled through more and more photographs all of which showed him and Dudley growing up together — pictures had hadn't the faintest memory of.

Fear began to bubble up inside his stomach and for a brief moment, he thought he might throw up. Who was this person in the photographs because it most certainly was not him. Or was it? Was it possible that he had ended up like Neville's parents in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries? Had Voldemort toyed with him so much that had was now insane and everything he was seeing was just going on inside his own head.

"Harry, will you hurry up and get in here?" came his Aunt's voice again, this time from the kitchen.

He closed the cupboard door and turned to see her face poking out from behind the kitchen door.

"Yeah, sorry." said Harry, surprised that she was not berating him for going through stuff that he shouldn't be.

If there had been one thing the Dursley family had hated it was him snooping around or asking too many questions. Harry found himself wishing he had Ron and Hermione with him and with another dull pang he felt his heart filled with sadness at the thought of them. If he was here, wherever that might be, was it possible that they too were in this world, somewhere? Were they like he remembered or, like his Aunt, did they have completely different personalities?

Harry walked into the kitchen to see his Aunt, Uncle, and Cousin sitting around the kitchen table eating breakfast. Uncle Vernon was currently hidden behind his morning paper while Dudley was busying himself by loading up as much food as he could onto his plate. He looked up as Harry took a seat opposite him. It seemed that Dudley's large appetite had not changed.

"Morning, Harry." he said politely.

"Morning — Dud." said Harry, taken aback.

He had not ruled out that these so-called Dursley's were Dark Wizards disguised with Poloyjuice Potion. He must keep his wits about him. He felt exposed sitting there with the three Dursleys.

Aunt Petunia bused herself by loading up some bacon, eggs, and toast onto Harry's plate.

"Eat up, dear." she said, kindly.

Harry decided to play along with whatever was going on. for the time being.

Breakfast with the Dursley's was slowly turning into the strangest thing Harry had ever been apart of. Once Uncle Vernon had finished with the paper he set it aside and began to chat with Dudley about school and his upcoming boxing match, while Aunt Petunia gossiped away happily about Mr. Next Door's problems with his daughter.

"They're an odd bunch, those Lovegood's." she said as she sipped her morning tea through her horse like lips.

Harry almost choked on his bacon. Uncle Vernon leaned over and thumped him on the back.

"Luna?" he said loudly turning to face his Aunt.

Aunt Petunia raised her eyebrows at him.

"Yes, I've been saying it for years now. If she doesn't get straightened out soon, she'll get herself into some serious trouble." said Aunt Petunia.

"Now dear," began Uncle Vernon.

"That family has been through quite a lot. Losing her mother the way she did at such a young age —"

"So sad." said Aunt Petunia, nodding at her husband.

Uncle Vernon turned to face Harry, his mustache quivering with excitement.

"Now Harry, we are very excited about your football tournament next week. I know you and the rest of the team have been training hard for months now. We can't wait to come to see you play." he said smiling brightly at Harry.

"What —" said Harry, who had never seen Uncle Vernon smile at him in living memory. He was still shaken up about the comment about Luna and her father and wanted to continue the conversation about them. He was keen to know more.

"Yes, the tournament." said his Uncle.

"I think the school team has a good chance of winning it all this year, especially with you as Team Captain now." said his Uncle in a matter-of-fact tone of voice.

"I'm sure Cho will be there too, cheering you on as always." sniggered Dudley, giving Harry a wink from across the table.

"Cho?" said Harry, sounding confused.

"She is still your girlfriend isn't she, Harry?" asked Dudley through a mouthful of fried egg.

"Oh I do hope so," said Aunt Petunia.

"Lovely young lady you got there, boy." said Uncle Vernon reaching out to pat Harry gruffly on the shoulder

"Always love having her around for Sunday tea." simpered Aunt Petunia.

This was all becoming too much for Harry to deal with on top of the Dursley's turning out to be the nicest people on the planet.

Harry pushed his plate aside and got to his feet.

"Excuse me for a minute. I need to use the bathroom." he said quickly as his Aunt and Uncle looked up at him.

"Alright, but hurry will you? You've hardly touched anything on your plate." said his Aunt with a hint of the stiffness Harry was used to.

Harry walked out of the kitchen, closing the door behind him and made a beeline for the bathroom.

He closed the bathroom door behind him and bolted it shut. Cold sweat was running down the back of his neck as he walked over and turned on the tap. He splashed cold water onto his face and looked up at his reflection in the spotless mirror.

"Come on, wake up!" he hissed quietly to himself so that the Dursley's would not be able to hear him from the kitchen.

Harry brushed his hair out of his face again and looked at the lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead. It looked exactly as it always had. Harry reached out with a quivering hand and touched the scar. It suddenly felt as those a red hot wire had been applied to his forehead. Bright lights were flashing before him. But that wasn't all. As though a speeded-up film was playing inside his head, unknown memories washed over him like a tidal wave, memories he could not ever remember living through.

He was ten and his Aunt and Uncle were sitting down in front of him with sullen looks on their faces explaining about a car crash that had killed his parents, leaving him as the sole survivor of the accident. Then he was eleven and he was out shopping for school uniforms with his Cousin, Dudley before his birthday party. Harry recognized the orange tailcoat and boater. He was now fifteen and he was sitting behind the wheel of his Uncle's car learning how to drive for the first time. He was sixteen and he was dropping off Cho Chang after their very first date. She was leaning in to kiss him, his hands in her hair, the windows of the car somewhat fogged up from the heater of the car.

Harry suddenly came to and realized he was lying on the bathroom floor breathing heavily. He got to his feet and gripped the sink with both hands to steady himself. Where had all of these unknown memories come from? How could he possibly have lived out an entirely new life in the muggle world? It was impossible to think that the memories he had made as a wizard were all just some made-up dream he had. But if they had been made up, how had Luna and Cho been in them? They were both two completely different people in the Wizarding World. He and Cho had not worked out as boyfriend and girlfriend, yet here in these muggle memories they were happily together and had been for quite some time. Where were Ron, Hermione, and Ginny?

Harry looked back up into the mirror, his chest heaving, and his mind racing.

It couldn't all have been some strange dream, could it?

:TO BE CONTINUED:


End file.
